May 24, 2026
Did you have any?
Did you have friends then many?
Twenty-year old bog,
whose mem’ries form fog.
Hands outstretched yet lost digits,
sunk without fidgets.
Is friendship for life,
or when roots stretch without strife?
Carve your wood message,
it’s lost on the edge,
forest-bystander sees naught,
which once meant a lot.
Weathering strikes all,
rigid oak certain to fall.
Is friendship shared grief,
trading leaf for leaf?
Or is it acquiescence
without thought-essence?
Did they lose your sight,
cloudy faces smiling bright?
Or did you lose them
out the forest hem?
Is friendship one forest growth
of uprooted oaths?
Roots began walking,
later mocked their ground talking.
Yet others seek ground,
roots windy around.
Who were they and who were you,
now lost from your view?
Happy-years twenty,
older you and older me.
Eye it happily.
When life bent our knee,
arrogance could only flee.
’cause our leaves to dirt glided,
’cause our life is growth bided.
Farewell and hello,
hello and thus on we grow,
a tree to pretend,
that life doesn’t bend,
friendships and life’s means-meaning,
foggy trees that seem-seeming.
Happy-years twenty,
older you and older me.
Who are you and who are me?
Just some trees that seem-seeming.
Autism Librarian